Gladly Broken
by BommieB
Summary: Sherlock and Molly wait for the newest Watson to enter the world [Mildly Sherlolly Post Season 3]


**Summary: **_Sherlock and Molly wait for the newest Watson to enter the world [Mildly Sherlolly ~ Post Season 3]_

**Gladly Broken**

"I. Am. Bored." Sherlock looked up to the while boring ceiling of Barts and got up from his chair to start pacing around the waiting room. "This is taking too long."

"We've been outside for five minutes, Sherlock." Molly Hooper didn't even bother looking away from the old magazine she was reading from the chair next to the one the man just got up from. "It'll take hours before the baby is born, you know? It's Mary's first and those always take longer."

"Why didn't they choose to have a C-section? In and out: no fuss and much faster than the atrocity that is natural birth." The Consulting Detective sat once more and tapped his fingers on the chair's arms for a few seconds before turning to the Pathologist with a frown. "Why are you here anyway? You and Mary became quite friends during the past few months, since, and I quote 'there aren't many women that understand what is to have you and John around, Sherlock.', as Mary said, but I don't think you are so close for you to be waiting while she gives birth. Most of her friends will wait at least a few hours after the child is born to visit."

"I would like to wait nonetheless." Molly changed the magazine's page. "Plus, we all decided I should stay here with you, remember?"

"No."

"I hate when you block conversations, Sherlock." The woman rolled her eyes and put the magazine down. "John and Mary wanted someone with you, but Mrs Hudson would annoy you, Greg too and since there aren't many people you stand, they asked _me_ to be here so you wouldn't tear the hospital down while their baby is born. You promised Mary that you would behave."

"I remember that." The man said slowly. "But she knows I lie." Sherlock reached for his phone (rare occasion when he had other people around), but Molly took it away from his hands.

"No cases today, remember?" She put the phone on her pocket. "You are taking the day off so you can be here when your friends become parents."

He groaned. "Why?"

Molly sighed in annoyance. "Because this is what friends do! We stay outside, completely bored for hours until everything is fine again and there's another human being in the world."

"I am hardly making a difference to them sitting here in the waiting room." Sherlock crossed his arms over his chest.

She smiled when saw him pouting. "You are making a difference, because they know you are giving moral support, and since it is _you_, just waiting is a _big_ thing and they know it."

"This is ridiculous." He rolled his eyes. "If I was in John's place, I'd rather him be doing something useful than being here. I don't know if _I _would be here."

"You would be here." Molly chuckled and returned her attention to the magazine in hands. "Underneath all that toughness, you care a lot more than people think you do, Sherlock Holmes."

She could feel his eyes on her. "Why do you think that?"

"I don't think, I _know_." The pathologist looked up after a moment. "I might not be able to deduce a complete stranger by his tie color, but I know feelings; and you have them. Lots of them and you lock them away most of the time."

"Because I know that _feelings_ are chemical defects. Errors that occurred during evolution." Sherlock told her.

"Yes." She shrugged. "It doesn't mean that they are bad things, though. Not all mistakes are." The Consulting Detective opened his mouth to tell her off, but she beat him to it. "I was in a car accident ten years ago and the air bag didn't open; the forensics told me that if it did, I would be dead. It was a mistake, but it saved me. You were supposed to be dead and because of a mistake, Moriarty's, you are alive. I am not saying that all mistakes are good, because they are not, but there are some that makes things better." They stared at each other for a moment before Molly returns her gaze to the magazine. "It's a matter of perspective."

"Hm." The man started to tap his fingers once more. "I am still bored, though." Molly sighed and said nothing. "Child birth is a barbarian thing, now that I think about it. It would be most entertaining to see it one time…" Molly's eyes widened as she read through the lines and a few seconds later, her fears became real. "I wonder if Mary would let me be present." The pathologist grabbed her phone and texted the expectant mother.

_I am taking Sherlock to the lab: he is bored and I don't doubt he wants to barge in and measure your cervix so he can entertain himself – MH_

_In a scientific way. – MH_

_You know what I meant. – MH_

"I have been measuring her stomach during the whole pregnancy, you know?" Sherlock told Molly and his eyes sparkled. "That's why I let her hug me so much: to take measurements. I assume that the newest Watson will be a small baby, but genetics are playing against it with two short parents." Molly's phone chirped as she received an answer.

_Please, take him. John is panicking and would punch Sherlock on the face for anything. I'll let you know when things start to happen. Thanks for doing this, Molly. – MW_

_No problem. Now, focus on the little girl. See you later. – MH_

"Sherlock?" She called and the man hummed his answer while his mind wondered about the science behind birthing. "Would you like to go to the lab for a couple of hours?"

The man frowned for a second, just to smirk a moment later. "I am supposed to stay here, remember?" He mocked her. "Feelings are nice mistakes and all that nonsense." Sherlock

"Do you want or not?"

"Yes." The man was on his feet. "Please."

* * *

"You knew that if you threatened to go inside I would bring you to the lab, didn't you?" Molly asked when she opened the door.

"Yep." Sherlock popped the 'p' and the Pathologist looked over her shoulder just to see him grin.

"What if I told you that I knew that?" She smiled when he frowned.

"What do you mean?"

"_Really_, Sherlock?" Molly put her bad on a bench and saw him do the same with his belstaff. "I've known you for six years and you pulled every trick on me."

He hesitated, but nodded. "That is true."

"So, since I knew you would do that and I won't let you play with chemicals because in a few hours you will meet a new born," the woman walked towards a cabinet and from inside took a handful of folders "I got you something I am sure you will like." She waved for him to sit down on a chair and put all folders on the bench in front of him. "Enjoy. There are more for later."

Curious, the Consulting Detective noted that the papers were in many shades of yellow, so, they were quite old. After a few moments of examining the contents, he finally spoke. "This is _fascinating_." Sherlock moved the papers as if he wanted to see them all at once. "This goes from the eighteen hundreds to 1993! All kinds of puzzling deaths... Mutilation with a femur as tool?" He changed the file. "A woman killed by a… boar? While she was home?" He moved the papers a bit. "And there are _pictures _in this one! Where did you find all this?"

"This is a very old hospital: many freaky things happened here, so I did research during the slow days. I knew you would become restless during Mary's labor and since _I_ would be the sitter, I thought it was best if I prepared myself." Molly gloated in pride as she could see the evident excitement from him.

"This will do just fine." Sherlock started to read and waved Molly off. "Marvelous, this is."

Knowing that he probably already tuned her down from the moment she spoke to where she found the files, Molly just shrugged and sat on a chair by his side to read the ones he was finished with – she also thought it was fascinating some of those reports and wanted to read them again – and to pass the time.

When they were going through the second batch of Molly's selected unusual deaths (Sherlock solved three murders during that time that were staged as accidents, but they occurred before 1940), her mobile chirped and she looked at it to see that she had a new text.

_NOW!_

No signature and it came from Mary's number, so Molly assumed it was John the one who sent it (she doubted his wife was the one to type it if things were indeed happening at that moment) and she smiled.

"Sherlock, we have to go." The pathologist started to gather the papers.

"I was just getting to the good part, Molly." Sherlock tried to get the file Molly took from his hands, but she slapped him away.

"The actual birth is happening right now." She told him and finally put all the files together. "As in: we are speaking and Mary is pushing." The woman walked towards the cabinet and put the papers inside. "So, we have to go; John will want to see you there to announce that the baby is born."

"Fine. _Fine._" Sherlock grabbed his belstaff but didn't put it on and waited for Molly to finish aligning the things they moved to get more space to spread the files; when she finally joined him he held the door open for her to exit the lab. "I want to finish those files later with you."

"Yeah, yeah." Molly waved him off. "Tell me when. Now come on, you are about to become an Uncle!" She beamed at him and the man scowled.

"You do know that I am not neither John nor Mary's brother, right?"

"You are in the ways it counts."

"It's a girl!" John appeared on the waiting room half an hour later with a grin so wide Molly worried the good doctor could hurt himself, but his happiness was so overwhelming that even Sherlock stopped his pacing around the room because of his boredom to give a small smile of his own.

"You knew it was a girl, John. We all knew. Why did you just…?" Sherlock stopped talking when his best friend caught him in a hug.

"Shut up, you tosser. I just became a father!" John let his friend go and hugged Molly in his excitement – the woman hugged him back and told him her congratulations.

"Technically you became a father the moment your spermatozoid fertilized Mary's egg…"

"Not another word." The doctor shook his head lightly. "Just say 'congratulations for the baby', Sherlock. It's not that difficult."

"I…" the Consulting Detective sighed. "Congratulations, John."

"Thank you." John grin intensified and then he turned to Molly. "Did he behave?"

"Yes. I showed him some interesting cases of unusual deaths and he was entertained enough." Molly told the new father and the woman saw Sherlock roll his eyes.

"Thank you, Molly." John said and then turned to his best friend. "And _you_… you were concerned that we wouldn't pay attention to you now that Mary and I have a new baby."

"The older child tends to get really jealous of a new sibling…" The pathologist said and John chuckled.

"You two are amusing, really. Giggles and Chuckles, the comedians." The Consulting Detective said with a dry tone. "Can I go home now? I was here during the whole thing."

"Of course you _can't_ go home, you git." John patted the taller man's on the shoulder. "Now you need to go and meet my daughter."

Sherlock let out a soft groan of pain and let out an exaggerated sigh. "Fine. But if it cries, I am out of here. Loud shrieking sounds make me… unsettled."

"Deal." The doctor knew when to compromise with his friend. "Coming, Molly?"

"In a bit." She smiled kindly.

The Consulting Detective could tell exactly why she wanted to stay behind. "She thinks she'll intrude if she comes with us. Nonsense."

"He is right; Mary wants you to meet our daughter as well." John informed, but Molly shook her head.

"I'll call Greg and Mrs. Hudson to give them the news and to give you all a few moments of your own."

"Well, don't take too long: I really want to brag about my girls." John nodded her way with a big smile and then led his best friend towards the room where his wife waited for them.

* * *

Mary was lying down on the hospital bed, looking very tired – he wasn't allowed to tell her that. _(Molly said: "Remember: the baby is beautiful and Mary looks beautiful." To which he answered. "I rather doubt she will look beautiful – as you put it – after being in pain for six hours and pushing an infant through her vagina, Molly." The pathologist sighed and just told him it didn't matter.)_

"Hey there, Sherlock." The blonde woman looked up from the pink bundle on her arms to her husband's best friend, with a sweet smile while the Consulting Detective and her husband stepped inside the room. "This is Rose Ann Sherly Watson." The blonde woman shifted the baby a little bit so she could show the newest addition to their family. Sherlock came a bit closer, his arms behind him while he observed the child.

"_Sherly_, huh?" The taller man smirked, blue/green eyes sparkling.

"Even if Sherlock _is_ a girl's name… We thought people might talk. Even more." John teased and both man smiled to each other. "So, we adapted it."

"I am expecting a _Mary_ or even a _Mario_ in any of you kids' names, by the way." The blonde woman chuckled.

"Don't hold your breath for _that_ to happen." Sherlock rolled his eyes. "My mother – she became fond of you during the time you spent there – will begin to bother me and, oh, god I can almost _see_ her begging me for a grandchild soon. She knows Mycroft can't even _touch_ people without getting nauseated, so all her hopes fall on me." He made a sad face and sighed, as if in pity. "Poor old and mentally ill woman."

"Sherlock!" Mary laughed. "Moira is a wonderful and _smart_ woman whom is not even close to being mentally ill."

"She is if she thinks I am giving her grandchildren." He snorted.

John cleared his throat and the couple shared a look (married look, as Sherlock called, which meant they were having a conversation) and of course the taller man noticed, but waited for his best friend to talk. "Well, don't you want to hold your goddaughter? And for god's sake, don't just go all statue-like on me again."

It took him thirty seconds, but Sherlock finally spoke (and he was not proud of his stupid words). "Wait, _what_?"

"Come on, Sherlock." Mary laughed at his reaction. "

John chuckled. "You can be quite awkward, but your heart would be in the right place."

"I…" Sherlock was at a loss of words. "Are you crazy?"

"I have a thing for psychopaths and Mary can shoot a coin in the air. It's safe to say that we are not exactly normal, but crazy? Nah." The doctor said. "Now, accept that this tiny person will need you a lot in the future. Need to give you some kind of job otherwise you'll drive us crazy."

"Say you will be her godfather, Sherlock." The blonde woman said. "We would love that."

"You would trust me with your child?" The man finally cleared his mind enough to speak properly. "Me?"

"Well… who else would we trust?" Mary smiled. "As if there will be _anyone_ else who will love and protect her better than you if something ever happen to us?"

"That is true, mate." John patted his best friend on the shoulder. "Now, would you be Rosie's godfather?"

The Watsons were putting so much trust in him (as far as he knew, their child was the most valuable thing in their lives as of the moment they knew about it). "As long as you two don't die on me and leave me with an infant. I would probably forget to feed it."

"We will try our best, trust me." John guaranteed him.

A knock came from the door and a moment later it opened and Molly entered the room.

"Hello." She said with a smile.

"Hi, Molly." Mary grinned. "Come here meet Rose."

The pathologist walked towards the bed by Sherlock's side (he stepped away so she could see the child) and, as expected, Molly cooed over the baby.

"Oh, she's precious. Congratulations you two." The couple thanked her. "I called Mrs Hudson and Greg. He said he would pass by Baker Street and give her a ride in an hour. I don't really know your other friends' numbers to tell them…"

"Don't worry, Molly. Thank you for letting them know." The blonde woman said and then leaned (as much as she could with Rose in her arms) conspiratorially towards the pathologist. "You know, Sherlock here still hasn't picked his goddaughter yet."

"Goddaughter, huh?" Molly's brown eyes sparkled. "That's sweet. I bet he'll be a nice godfather."

"It's only in name." Sherlock informed the women.

"Oh no, it is not." John assured him. "I do think that you'll come in handy in seventeen years when Rose wants to start to date and I need back up to scare the shit out of some boy."

"Seventeen, they say. That's adorable." Mary chuckled and Molly followed.

"Excuse me?" John frowned. "Seventeen is already too early."

"Don't worry, John. I'll notice when she starts taking interest in dating and inform you." Sherlock said with a shrug. "And it will be fun watch you telling boys of all ages to go and shove it." The Consulting Detective smirked.

"All ages?"

"I had my first boyfriend when I was six." Molly shrugged.

"Five." Mary nodded.

"Well… who says children need to get out of the house?" John said after a moment.

"I would have killed for my parents to have that philosophy." Sherlock said with a sigh and all the other laughed.

"Now, Sherlock, you need to make it official and take her, you know?" The blonde woman shifted the baby.

"I…" The man gave a step back and for a moment, Molly saw a little bit of panic pass through his eyes and knew exactly what he was afraid of.

"Here, let me. Sherlock, watch me." Molly step up and took the baby from Mary's arms – John gave her a weird look while the pathologist cradled Rose on her arms, frowning in confusion and it was his wife who clarified things for him.

"He needs to see someone taking her so he can do it right, sweetheart."

"Oh, yeah. Sure." John nodded, it made sense: if Sherlock ever knew how to hold a baby, he would've deleted it and needed to gather information again.

"Why didn't you YouTube it, by the way?" Mary teased him as she watched the way Molly held the child close to her chest, where her hand went and how much pressure she put on it.

"I didn't think you would ask me to carry it until it was two years old, or at all for that matter." The man narrowed his eyes when Molly started to babble some idiotic things with stupid voice (he was not going _that_).

"Silly man." The blonde woman chuckled. "And don't call her an _it_. Her name is Rose Ann."

"Sorry." Sherlock gave her a smirk and resumed his watch on how Molly held the child.

"Do you think you can do it now?" The pathologist asked him and Sherlock hesitated – she saw it even if lasted a second – and smiled sweetly. "Don't worry, she's a tough little girl just like her mother; just remember to support the head and you will be fine."

"Okay." Sherlock cleared his throat and stepped closer to Molly and she flashed him a supporting smile and he felt slightly better. He mirrored her actions and took Rose into his arms.

He knew the other three people in the room were watching him intently, but he didn't care: he was taking data about the new Watson and even just a couple of hours old, she was already fascinating, even sleeping; he couldn't say that about most of people he knew while they were awake, so it was already nice to know that she wouldn't be a bore for some time.

Sherlock could see John and Mary all over her. Rose had John's nose and Mary's lips and chin and he couldn't tell about her eyes for a while (fifty-fifty chance to be either blue or green), but he found out that he would pretty much would like to discover. It would be entertaining to see what color they would be.

"How did you like her, Sherlock?" John asked by his side.

Without taking his eyes from the little girl. "She looks like any other baby I've ever seen, wrinkled and sleepy and probably bored with the world, but she is somehow fascinating."

* * *

"Here you go: the best cigar I could find." Sherlock gave his best friend the cigar once they were outside and the doctor accepted, staring at the Consulting Detective with a raised brow.

"I know you: you are using my daughter's birth to smoke." The shorter man pointed at the other with the cigar.

"Well, as you said: you know me." The Consulting Detective chuckled. "I have one more for Greg, but he is late."

John frowned and after the shock, he asked: "Greg? Do you mean Greg Lestrade?"

"Oh, sorry. Gale." Sherlock 'corrected' himself while grabbing his lighter and lighting John's cigar. "Forgot his name for a moment there; thankfully there's only the two of us here or _that_ would be embarrassing." He laughed and lit his own, then smoke it with a delightful expression.

"You are unbelievable." John smoke his cigar and coughed. "Oh, god. This is _awful_."

"It's tradition, or so I've heard." Sherlock shrugged. "And if you don't smoke it, I will want that back, these are quite nice." He looked down to his own.

"No way. You are getting a pass today and that's all." John said and both of them stayed in silence for a couple of minutes. "You were right."

"I know." Sherlock didn't even hesitate to answer. "Wait, about what?"

"That me and Mary getting married wouldn't be the happiest day of my life." The doctor looked up to the sky. "Today was the best day of my life. When I saw Rose for the first time… I felt… I can't even describe it. You should experience that, Sherlock." John chuckled. "Blimey, _everyone_ should experience that."

"I don't think that I should father a child, John; please, don't join my mother in her crusade of making me impregnate someone. I would forget I had a child for instance, I would probably delete it." Sherlock snorted.

"Oh, no you wouldn't." John laughed. "This is not a random silly day-to-day fact you would easily delete: the feeling of holding your baby? To know that it is half you and half the person you love wrapped in a perfect little package? That, Sherlock, is visceral. You can tell me all over again that it's a chemical defect, but if it is, I am _gladly_ broken."

Sherlock often wondered how much different his life would be if he ever chose to lead a normal life, how it would be to have a real family, or even normal feelings. Well, even Mary had a family now, after being an assassin for years. Sherlock himself was just a Consulting Detective; it would be difficult, but doable to experiment to have a family (Mycroft would be amused, that would be for sure).

Maybe he would be like Mary and wouldn't resist having a normal life when he found the right person? He pondered for a moment and realized that only a couple of women in the world would ever be compatible enough for him to even try.

Well, Sherlock thought with a smirk while smoking, he _did_ have a thing for doctors who were abnormally attracted to sociopaths. He also happened to like brown eyes and women who didn't let him get away with his crap.

_Maybe_, one day he could find himself completely broken and be happy about it.

**Hi! I hope you liked it. Forgive me any OOCness and mistakes (English is not my first language). Anyway, thanks for reading!**


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